


Dear Castiel

by UnfortunatelyObsessed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Break Up, But not quite, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Pain, Post-Relationship, almost poetry, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyObsessed/pseuds/UnfortunatelyObsessed
Summary: The most therapeutic thing I've ever written.For me, anyways.Y'all gonna hurt like hell.





	Dear Castiel

Dear Castiel,

I found this and the subsequent sheets of paper in the middle of _The Odyssey_. I can only guess you were taking notes, but I threw the notes out. Now I'm going to throw this book out, even though it's the poem one and those are hard to come by.

I never really realized how integrated you were in my life until now, when I'm pulling every other book because they're not mine. They're yours. Books you snuck into my life, just like you yourself snuck into my life.

I wish I could throw them. Just toss them across to the other side of our - sorry, my - bedroom. But I'm laying them down gently.

There goes _The Encyclopedia of North American Wildlife_. And here is _Sherlock Holmes_. It's a teetering tower now, and my bookshelf is snaggle-toothed.

God, there are notes shoved between my books. Notes you wrote and stuck places. Some are just things you wanted to remember. Some are to me. Just last week I found a little scroll that said 'to the moon and back' tied to a whisk. I can only assume I missed the 'I love you'.

See, Castiel, I think that's why. We missed the I Love You. We said words fully that were really only half-formed. What did either of us know of love? I know of possessiveness disguised as love. You know of loyalty hiding under that same mask. So, yes, Cas. I think we missed the I Love You, and that is why we broke up.

I can only assume you took some of my books. My shelf has never looked this empty. My _room_ has never looked this empty. I removed all the fluttering notes. I scrubbed every inch until your lingering smell of rain and incense was gone. I washed my sheets until they smelled like Tide, and not passion. I removed you from this room, and now your books are all that's left.

I thumbed through one and found that you had left me thoughts about it in the margins. I shut it and haven't looked inside any others. I'm well on my way to moving on, and I can't have your words pulling me back. You have powerful words.

I believed them, you know. All of your words. That I was worthy and wonderful, and that this world could never tear us apart.

We both should've known that we were much smaller than the world.

We are both dreamers, and maybe that's why. We had so many dreams, Castiel. We would lay awake and talk about the future, hands clasped and laughs sounding away into the night. I went hunting tired a lot of mornings, because I had chosen to spend the time I should've spent sleeping with you instead. So, yes. Perhaps that's why we broke up.

Or perhaps, and this is the kicker, we are both as broken as the binding of _Slaughterhouse-Five_. Maybe we are simply trapped in the amber of the moment, and there is no reason we broke up. It happened. It will always have happened. And there is no why.

All my loyalty,  
Dean

**Author's Note:**

> If ya want, my Tumblr is @crack--attack  
> Two hyphens  
> Come and yell at me, scrubs!


End file.
